Up with the Birds
by 49shadesofgrey
Summary: Natasha disappears and Clint gets angry. My first try at angst, I guess. Don't hate me. ;-; Based on the song "Up with the Birds" by Coldplay. okay, bye. c:


It'd been three months since Natasha left. There was no warning, not even so much as a post-it note. One day, Clint woke up without her, which was nothing out of the ordinary. She liked getting an early start, and he liked to sleep in, even for a few minutes. He got dressed and made breakfast before heading out to SHIELD headquarters.

When he walked through the doors, he could tell something was amiss. It was as though everyone in the building had been talking about him, and the moment he stepped inside, they all stopped. He sauntered up to the designated Avengers' debriefing room and took a seat at the end of the long glass table. The rest of the team, sans Natasha, sat together at the other end with their heads down, avoiding eye contact. "Is there some No Barton rule today?" Clint scoffed and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the table.

"Agent Barton," Fury stood up and put his hands behind his back, "Have you seen Agent Romanoff today?" No one moved from their position, but Clint put his feet back on the floor.

"You mean you haven't?" Fury shook his head. "No one's seen her?" The rest of the team followed suit. "Well… where is she? On assignment?" Clint shot a look at Fury who simply sighed.

"Clint… has she been acting out of the ordinary recently?" Fury inquired. Clint shook his head and watched as Fury looked to the other members of the Avengers and frowned. "We have reason to believe… she left."

"Left? Whaddaya mean 'left'? No one just _leaves_." Clint's blood began to boil as he rose from his seat. Steve walked over to him to prevent any incident from occurring. "Don't fucking touch me," he seethed. Steve's hands shot up in the air and he took a few steps back. "Find her," he pointed at Fury, "That's your job, right? Make sure the kids don't run away?"

"Hold on, Barton, I don't like your tone. And I'm _not _a babysitter." Fury touched his hip and felt the butt of his gun.

"No need to shoot, Fury." Clint kicked the chair back and headed for the door. "Find her," he said, "Or I'll have to."

That was three months ago. Given, the search was thorough and the SHIELD agents combed through every plausible situation and setting for her to have run, and to now be in, it wasn't enough for Clint. He spent every night thinking, the lack of sleep affecting his day-to-day life. He was agitated at all times, and everyone knew to stay out of his way.

One night he lay awake, he decided to look through some things the two had compiled to make something similar to a scrapbook. It held memories of past missions, letters written to the other while they were on separate missions, and one section of dream mission settings: places they both wanted to be sent for anything. Suddenly, Clint shot up in bed and called Fury. "I know where she is," was all he said before shutting the phone and getting dressed. The scrapbook lay on the bed, open to a page Natasha filled with pictures of Cordoba, Spain.

In less than an hour, Clint was at SHIELD HQ's helipad, waiting for Fury's signal to take off. Fury's ultimatum was simple: bring her back without a fight, or don't bring her back at all. He couldn't have one of his two best agents damaged after a fight over nothing if it could be avoided. But, Clint had another plan. A few hours later, he landed his quinjet and headed out to look for Natasha. It wasn't a large city, according to the aircraft's maps, but it would take a normal person a few days to find her. But, this was Clint. It would take him between one and two days to find her and bring her back. He located the smallest hotels in the city, and began his search there, looking under each of her aliases. When he exhausted all of them, he used her real name, and he finally found her in the Hotel Marino. "Room 206," the woman at the front desk smiled and handed him a room key. He thanked her and walked up the two flights of stairs, stopping in front of her door. He swiped the key into the lock, and turned the handle.

"Clint?" Natasha looked up from her bed, her green eyes wide. Clint stepped forward into the room and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He felt his blood boil, his temper getting the best of him. He clenched his fists and walked over to her bed, his breathing jagged and his face red.

"How… How could you do something like this! Just up and leave? Not tell anyone? Not fucking tell me!" He rarely yelled, especially not at her, so this was monumental. "Are you gonna answer me!"

Natasha looked at the wall ahead of her. "You shouldn't have come here," she murmured. Clint's eyes widened with rage. He stood over her, fuming.

"I shouldn't have come? _I SHOULDN'T HAVE COME! _Are you fucking kidding me! _You're _the one who shouldn't have come. _You're _the one who shouldn't have left," he screamed. He was frustrated with her, with himself, with Fury, with everything. "Why the hell did you leave?" His anger crumbled without cause, and he sat on the bed with his head hanging.

She barely shifted when his façade crumbled. "I had to." Natasha shrugged and looked over at him with his head in his hands. "Why the fuck do you care, anyway?" Clint looked up at her in horror, his face soft with emotion.

"Why do I care? What kind of question is that?" He stood up and looked at her. "I fucking love you, that's why I care." He bent down and kissed her before walking out of the door.

"W-Where are you going?" She turned to look at him, finally letting some emotion show through.

"Home. They need me. And you, too." He turned and headed out the door, leaving Natasha sitting there, dumbfounded.


End file.
